Arthur Stringer

“ The sullen, heavy Sunday-school look went out of the boy's face. He forgot the discomfort of his Sunday clothes. It must be the soldiers on church parade! Then the sound grew like the voice of a thousand sirens singing in his ears.
Still he faltered. He remembered the Sunday-school collection, and his story of Joseph, and the cold, green eyes, haunting and relentless, that watched him each morning to see that he did not take more than his share of porridge. He was dreadfully afraid of those cold, green eyes. But the fates were against Duncan Stewart McDougall. ”

“ By this time there were big water blisters on his heels, and one stocking was hanging down. But that military band was all he saw or heard. When he got big like Sandy McPherson he was going to be a soldier. ”

“ And all the while he marched, hobbled, stumbled on, drinking in the martial sound. An occasional policeman would try to kick him away, but he dodged in between the lines, where the soldiers came to look upon him as a joke. ”